


Wandering Eyes

by PoutyBats



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Humor, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Turf War, Violence, angel has a gun and he's not afraid to use it, demons being demons, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoutyBats/pseuds/PoutyBats
Summary: “The boss man doesn’t appreciate the fish guts in his office!” One of them says.“But maybe he’d like you,” another laughs and a swarm of them begin to close in on him.---Cherri asks Angel for help in another one of her turf wars.





	Wandering Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ParkRyder525](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParkRyder525/gifts).



> Thank you, Emily for commissioning me! 
> 
> Twitter: Kiribakushima  
> Tumblr/Insta: PoutyBats

When Cherri says she needs help fighting for some territory, Angel doesn’t hesitate. It’s an excuse to get away from Charlie’s lessons for the day and he could not be more eager to escape the hotel. 

In hindsight, he should have been more careful. 

It’s as he’s preparing a catapult full of fish guts that he gets surrounded by Sir Pentious’ lackeys. He hasn’t seen Sir Pentious since their little war began, but he figured that was because Cherri was keeping him occupied. He didn’t consider the snakey bastard would send his minions after him. 

“The boss man doesn’t appreciate the fish guts in his office!” One of them says. 

“But maybe he’d like you,” another laughs and a swarm of them begin to close in on him. 

Angel huffs and moves the catapult slightly before cutting the rope. The guts go flying at one of the lackeys and goes right through him and the one behind him. In their place remains two hollow cracked shells that topple over after a second. 

“Get him!” Someone says. Angel reaches behind him, underneath the bag of nightmarish supplies he brought, and then there are bullets flying. The Thompson submachine gun in his hands sending vibrations through his entire body as he spins around. 

The vortex of bullets he unleashes lasts a whole thirty seconds. When no one else lunges at him he lets the gun fall to his side and takes a deep breath as he surveys the area and the outcome of the quick battle. There’s yolk everywhere. Broken egg shells cover the ground around him and Angel laughs. They’ll be fine. It’s hell, after all. There’s no easy way out. They’ll be back in a day or two to continue doing Sir Pentious’ dirty work.

Angel rolls his shoulders back and reaches down to scoop up some of the yolk by his feet before adding it onto the catapult. This’ll send a message to that pretentious asshole.

As he watches the yolk shoot through the sky, the air changes around him. An immediate feeling of dread encompasses him and he barely has the idea to duck before a spray of bullets flies over his head. 

Everything feels like it’s going in slow motion as he twists around, back arched towards the floor, gun in hand. He exchanges a look with a beast and pulls the trigger. Instead of a clean explosion like the other egg minions, these fiends are far larger. Their eyes are a deep red and as Angel’s bullets fly through their heads, they release a long mirror shattering shriek. They don’t spill yolk; there’s blood spewing from every hole in their long snake-like bodies. 

Angel gasps when his back hits the floor and one of the creature’s hands grab his throat. He brings his gun up and tries to shoot, but the following clicks tell him he’s out of ammo. 

“Shit,” he chokes out, clawing at the hand at his throat. The beast leans its head down and the black goop of its skin stretches into a wicked smile. Sir Pentious must be bringing out the big guns. That means he’s getting desperate. 

Too bad he won’t be able to tell Cherri about it until it’s too late. 

Spots in his vision spread until the figure in front of him is just a blurry blob. Darkness begins to spread until he hears a shout to his right. The monster suffocating him twists its head, and then it’s gone. The wicked smile, the face; the whole head is gone. The hands around his neck are firm despite no life. 

Did Cherri come to help? 

He tries to move and see who or what annihilated the monster, but the fog in his head consumes him and the next thing he knows he’s passing out. 

\- 

Explosions. Screaming. 

Angel opens an eye and the area is covered in a sea of black. Ashes? No, not ashes. The creatures. Bits and pieces of them are sprayed across the field, mixed with the egg yolk from before. The area looks like someone vomited bile. 

In the midst of it all stands a figure, tall and menacing. 

Angel inhales and realizes two things at once. First, he can breathe, which means the hands around his neck fell away. Except they were too tight around his neck. Pried away? Second of all, the man in the middle of everything, causing the air to feel thirty degrees colder, hands coursing with a red energy every other demon in hell envies, is Alastor. 

Angel freezes when Alastor snaps his head in his direction, ruby eyes glowing. Angel swallows thickly and glances around for something to defend himself with. 

“Lay down,” Alastor speaks and Angel’s shoulders rise at the feral animosity in his voice.

Not that that stops Angel from sneering, “And let you kill me? No thanks, I’d like to go into a coma fighting, at least.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, just like you didn’t hurt them, right?” Angel gestures to the blanket of black goop on the floor. He reaches two hands up to massage his neck. It will be sore for awhile. 

Alastor quirks a brow, his usual smile spreading wider. “You’re one to talk after gunning down those hopeless eggs.” 

“They were like that when I got here.”

“Listen, Angel.” Alastor walks foward and looms over him. Angel wants to kick his kneecaps out and run, but he knows it’s futile. This isn’t just any demon. It’s the radio demon himself. “I don’t plan on hurting you.” A pause, and then he’s kneeling down. “But if you keep being difficult I will send you through an interdimensional vortex and you’ll scream for what feels like a million years until finally, after your skin has been ripped apart and put back together, you’ll be back at the hotel.”

Angel gasps, “The hotel? You monster.”

“The fact the hotel was the scariest part of that statement to you worries me.”

“Charlie’s going to kill me,” Angel groans. “Or worse, she’s going to lecture me to death.”

“And you’ll have deserved it. I will gladly watch with a bucket of popcorn drizzled with the finest blood.” Alastor coos. 

“Now you’re just bragging,” Angel drags all four of his hands down his face. “Let’s get this over with. Carry me like one of your French girls.”

Alastor cocks his head to the side. “Why French?”

“It’s a joke- nevermind. Forget about it. Pick me up, noble steed.”

“I’ll drop you if you make another comment like that. No warning. I’ll drop you and you can crawl back to the hotel while demon chinchillas bite at your ankles.” 

“Gee, take a joke.” Angel huffs as two strong arms lift him up. He expects to be held bridal style for a moment, blush rising to his face before he’s being thrown over Alastor’s shoulder. “Hey, watch the merchandise!”

“It looked pretty cheap to begin with.” Alastor replies, and Angel can hear the smile in his voice. “Hit me and I’m dropping you.”

Angel lowers his arm and pouts, glaring at the pile of bodies and the abandoned catapult behind them. These turf wars between Cherri and Sir Pentious usually end this way. He won’t hear the result of it until the news covers it, or Cherri calls him. Sometimes there’s no winner at all. 

“Why are you here, anyway?” Angel asks, eyes trailing a piece of thread that’s sticking out of the man’s coat. He wants to tug on it, but stops himself when he considers Alastor could easily devour him whole. Kinky to some, not fun for him. 

“Charlie told me to come.” Alastor says without hesitation. 

Angel places his chin in a palm as he fiddles with the thread of fabric between two fingers. “Charlie doesn’t trust you.”

Alastor stops walking. 

“And even if she did, Vaggie would have convinced her otherwise. She’s a bitch, but she’s not stupid.” Angel continues, tugging the thread, but not enough that it’ll start to ruin the coat. 

A low chuckle leaves Alastor before he starts walking again. “What can I say? I was worried you’d do something stupid and shame the hotel’s name. I’m realizing too late that that’s inevitable.” 

Rolling his eyes, Angel lets go of the thread and accepts his fate as luggage. Alastor would never do anything out of the goodness in his heart because there is no goodness in him. Hell, he probably doesn’t even have a heart. How could he have even known where Angel was? He made sure not to leave any hints for Charlie to follow. Alastor couldn’t have found him unless… Angel’s eyes widen. 

Alastor couldn’t have found him unless he already knew where he was the entire time. 

Hands balling into fists, Angel glances at Alastor from the corner of his eyes. He’s still smiling, the black fog in his eyes a constant warning to those he meets face to face. 

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. 

Angel wonders if there’s some merit to that statement. He looks away and snorts.. That’s fine. He can work with this. 

“Do you want a carrot for all your hard work, steed?” He sings out. A moment later he’s on the floor as Alastor continues to walk away. 

“You better hurry before the chinchillas catch your scent,” Alastor chimes. 

“Wait, Alastor!” Angel calls out, wiping dust off of him and massaging his sore ass. “It was just a joke!” 

The sound of teeth chattering behind him has him standing up immediately. Next thing he knows he’s chasing after Alastor who is suddenly way too far ahead.


End file.
